


Drawings

by NephilimEQ



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:42:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephilimEQ/pseuds/NephilimEQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is crazy and Meg is keeping an eye on him...and she discovers the one thing that keeps the angel from going completely insane. (Implied Destiel) REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawings

 

** D** **rawings **

Castiel stood in front of his easel, unsure of what to do with himself. He knew that he was crazy and it was a strange feeling. He had always been in control of himself, but now it felt like there was someone else inside of him that was forcing him to find sense in the absolutely illogical.

He had taken Sam’s pain and made it his own, and now he was in a psychiatric institute.

Meg hovered nearby and he smiled to himself at the irony. A risen demon watching out for a fallen angel. What had he done to the world that had brought him to this place?

He mused for a moment longer and then one of the nurses, Elise, put a gentle hand on his shoulder and said, “Emmanuel…are you going to draw?”

Cas nodded, and picked up a piece of charcoal. He still went by his adoptive name with everyone else at the hospital; it was strange, but also a relief. He could pretend to be someone else for a while and ignore the fact that _he_ was the one who had caused everything to, almost literally, go to hell.

Not paying much attention to what he was doing, he began to move his hand over the paper, drawing from memory, but not looking at the paper itself. His eyes were captured by a bee hovering outside of the window, near a small patch of petunias. He could see the energy that it gave off and he couldn’t help but be amazed by it. It was one of his father’s creations that he absolutely marveled at, mesmerized by the fact that it could even fly.

His hand continued to move as he stared out the window.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, drawing, but then he felt Nurse Elise’s hand on his shoulder and he turned his head to see her staring at his drawing with an awestruck look on her face.

“Emmanuel…this is beautiful!”

He looked back at his drawing…and was surprised by what he’d drawn. He was certain that it was going to be a bee or one of his other obsessions since he’d arrived at the institute, but instead a pair of very familiar eyes stared back at him. If he had drawn them in color, he knew that they would have been green.

He reached out with his other hand and gently ran it along the line of the neck.

Nurse Elise smiled and then asked, “Who is he?”

Cas sadly smiled.

“A very dear friend.”

He ignored the fact that he was now getting charcoal all over his fingers, and instead enjoyed staring at what he had just drawn, running his fingers all along its’ edges, marveling that he was able to look at him so easily, without fear of judgment. He had never thought that he would draw him so perfectly, but somehow he’d managed to capture his essence in the drawing.

The nurse gently squeezed his shoulder.

“Do you miss him?”

Cas nodded and replied, “With all of my imperfect being…”

She smiled at that, and leaned in, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Cas was used to the female nurses doing that. He had heard himself being compared to a, what was the phrase again? Oh, right. A lost puppy. He didn’t know why the nurses liked that, but apparently they did.

He let her touch him as he continued to stare at his drawing. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, as she was significantly shorter than him, and then said, “He’s certainly handsome. What’s his name?”

Cas smiled.

“Dean.”

She let go and then handed him some pencils and said, “He seems to make you happy. Why do you draw him?”

Her question made him think, and in his addled mind he pieced together enough words to say, in a partially coherent fashion, “He’s like the bees in the garden. They shouldn’t be able to fly, but they do…and he shouldn’t be able to exist, but he does.” He paused to touch the page a second time, and then finished with, “A marvel among all of my Father’s creations. A bee in a garden…”

Elise simply smiled and lovingly patted her hand on his back and said, “Keep drawing him, and maybe you’ll come back to us, Emmanuel.”

The angel simply nodded and took the pencils from her hand and flipped the drawing over so that he could get to a new sheet of paper. This time, he paid close attention to what he was drawing, fascinated by the details that he was able to remember. Like how Dean always had that perpetual five o’ clock shadow that seemed to give him his rough edge. He remembered the texture of his hair, how it used to look whenever Castiel would wake him up.

He carefully, but effortlessly, drew his eyes. Those green eyes that always seemed to see straight through him.

For the first time in a long time, he felt a shred of sanity weaving its way back into his mind. It was as if Dean’s presence was right next to him, steadying him, bringing him back to reality.

He held onto the feeling, longer than he thought he could.

After several long moments of simply staring at his partially finished drawing, Meg came over and looked at his drawing and then smirked. She looked at Cas and then looked back at the lines on the paper and then said, “Well, Clarence, looks like you’ve found your muse. Even I can admit good eye candy when I see it.” She stared at it a moment longer, her arms crossed in front of her chest, and then looked over her shoulder just before she leaned in and whispered in his ear, “But is he even worth all the pain he’s caused?”

Cas looked at her, confusion coloring his gaze, and she rolled her eyes, remembering just how out of it he actually was. Of course he didn’t understand what she was saying. She may have been a demon, but she wasn’t _blind_. The angel was wings over heels in love with the older Winchester brother, and even when he was out of his mind, he turned to him.

She just patiently patted his shoulder and then turned to walk away, but before she had even taken two steps, she heard Cas whisper the word, “Yes.”

Meg turned back, dropping her hands to her sides and said, “Sorry? What was that? Didn’t quite catch it…”

A heavily mocking tone was in her voice, but she knew that Castiel wouldn’t pick up on it; not with how out of it that he was. However, she was surprised when she saw some clarity come through in his tone and demeanor, almost like the old Cas, when he replied to her jab.

“Dean is worth everything, Meg…why do you think I was sent to him?”

She shook her head, crossing her arms once more over her chest, not wanting to interrupt for fear of having him lose the one shred of sanity that he’d managed to find in drawing Dean’s likeness. He gave her a long, hard look, one that she was distinctly familiar with, and he continued.

“I was told that I was the only angel who could rescue him from hell. All of the ones that were with me, were lost…all for _him_.” He paused, but then pressed on with, “I still don’t know why my Father chose me to bring him back, or why I have the bond with Dean that I do, but I know that he has good in him; that he is truly a righteous man. Even…even when he makes the wrong choice, it is always with pure intent, and I know that that is exceedingly rare to be found in a human being…”

He paused, giving the female demon a look that she wasn’t sure she understood, his brow furrowed as though deep in thought, and so she pressed the issue (and his lucidity) by asking, “Well, if Dean’s so special, then why isn’t he here trying to save the man who took on his brother’s insanity? Hmm? Tell me that, blue eyes.”

The angel’s eyes cast downward and Meg couldn’t help but smirk.

Yes. Exactly as she thought. But, just as she was about to turn around, Castiel had yet another answer that took her off guard.

“Because I deserve to be punished, Meg.” She stared at him, more than mystified at his words, so he explained. “It was _my_ bad judgment that caused Sam to fall with Lucifer into the pit. It could have been avoided had I agreed with Dean sooner and made plans to stop it. I…I…I made a…mistake. I believed in my blind faith towards Heaven more than my true faith in Dean…”

She smirked again.

“Poetic, angel, but not enough. Dean _chose_ to leave you behind. You’re telling me that that doesn’t leave you feeling a little bit burned?”

Cas nodded.

“Yes, it does…but it should.” Ignoring Meg’s look of surprise, he turned back to his drawing and carefully finished the last few lines and then said, “I know I was the one who raised him from Hell, but he is the one who saved me from my blind ignorance…”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she stepped towards him and pulled the pencil from his fingers and said, “Okay, Clarence, I think you’ve had enough arts and crafts for one day. Let’s get you back to bed…”

The instant she pulled him away, and he was no longer looking at his drawings, however, she saw something change. His eyes became less clear, cloudy almost, his gaze less focused, and his stance, which had previously been strong and resolute, wavered, and he leaned against her slightly for support as they walked back to his room. Abruptly, he stopped in front of a window and stared outside, and then said, nonsensically, “Bees have stingers, but they still make honey.”

He gave her a dopey smile, one that let her know that he was once more lost to the madness inside his mind, and Meg stared at him and, for a brief moment, something akin to pity shone in her eyes, but in the next instant it was gone.

She then grabbed his shoulders and said, “That’s nice. Now, let’s get you back to your room.”

He nodded.

“Sleep would be good.”

She nodded in return, saying, “Yes. And I think you need it.”

He let himself be lead back to his room, and she watched as he went and sat on the edge of the bed and looked out his window. At first, it looked peaceful…but then the silent weeping started, along with his strange Ennochian babblings, and she knew that he was fighting a battle inside his mind, and, from the sound of it, he was losing.

Having a strange feeling, one that she couldn’t quite place, she went back and retrieved the drawings of Dean from Cas’ easel in the rec room. When she brought them into the room, she could tell that he was worse off than before, lying on his side and crying into his pillow, so she carefully put the drawings on the end table and then cautiously approached the angel, where she then pressed a hand to his shoulder. He didn’t look up, but he stilled, so she knew that he knew she was there.

“Brought something back for you, Clarence,” she said quietly, unsure if he was listening, and then stood up and walked out.

She listened for a moment at the door…and a faint smile, one that she would deny if anyone ever asked her about it, appeared on the corner of her lips as she heard Cas’ crying fall silent once more. She didn’t have to look inside to know what had caused the silence.

Quietly, and to no one, she muttered under her breath, “Oh, I hope Dean knows what he’s done to you, because if he doesn’t…”

Meg just shook her head at the thought and then walked away.

Drawings would have to be good enough for now.

**THE END**


End file.
